


Holding Hands

by synonymouse



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Female Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3612123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synonymouse/pseuds/synonymouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The past caught up to her sometimes. She never knew when it would happen, never knew just when a sight or a smell or a sound would suddenly send her tumbling back into that dark, dank dungeon.</i>
</p><p>When one Hand falters, the other is there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Quick and mostly unedited ficlet to fill a Kink Meme prompt, written in an effort to take a break from editing my upcoming Solas/Lavellan story. Prompt went:
>
>> Leliana was there and she could have been in the room with Cassandra. Instead, Cassandra questions Varric alone. My head!cannon is that this is because Leliana still has a hard time with prisons and interrogations after what was done to her at the end of her time as a bard. But that means she is waiting outside for it to be over.
> 
> Technically this takes place during DAII, but the character combo is more closely associated with Inquisition. 

The past caught up to her sometimes. She never knew when it would happen, never knew just when a sight or a smell or a sound would suddenly send her tumbling back into that dark, dank dungeon. Dark red blotches clouding her vision, the sharp tang of her own blood in her mouth, the smell of mould and man-sweat.

Now the Left Hand of the Divine reeled, catching herself on the doorframe with a sharp intake of breath. The Right Hand looked over her shoulder, cocking an eyebrow in a quizzical expression that was soon replaced by one of concern. "Leliana?"

Inside the interrogation room, Varric groaned.

"I ... You deal with him. I will be outside," Leliana gulped. She couldn't bring herself to meet Cassandra's eyes, instead fastening her gaze somewhere about her throat. Her vision was disconcertingly blurred.

Cassandra gave her a quick pat on the shoulder and a nod of quiet understanding.

Leliana sank to the floor by the door, her back pressed against the cold stone wall. She brought her legs up, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her forehead against them. At least there were no guards here just now. At least she was alone.

How many years had it been? Many. She didn't care to count. And it had been a long time since the memories had hit her this hard. For a time, while she travelled with the Hero of Ferelden, she had almost thought herself healed. But then Dorothea had called for her aid. She had become the Left Hand, and found herself doing ... this.

She wondered, sometimes, if perhaps she should have told the Divine about her weakness. It was too late, now.

Breathing was important. She focused on that. Breathing, and Dorothea's face, her eyes. For her, she could be strong. For her, she could endure. She had gotten out of that dungeon once, thanks to Dorothea. She could get out of it again and again, a million times if need be. As long as she kept breathing.

 

"Leliana?"

Cassandra's voice rarely sounded so soft. Still, Leliana twitched with surprise, snapping her head up to look at the woman towering above her.

"Varric is insufferable. I need some air. And _you_ should get off the floor," the Seeker said and offered her a hand.

She took it and was pulled upright. Her legs shook slightly when she stood. "How long has it been?" she asked quietly as they started walking.

"Three hours, just about. Have you ... been outside the door all this time?"

Leliana didn't answer. What was she supposed to say? That she was a wreck, unfit to wield the power she had been given, unworthy of the responsibility entrusted to her? Perhaps that was exactly what she should say, at that. A sob swelled in her chest, forced its way through up through her throat. She stopped, bringing a hand to her forehead, pinching her nose as she shut her eyes tightly.

"Leliana," Cassandra breathed, spinning around and setting a hand on her shoulder. When Leliana wavered as if she was about to fall, Cassandra captured her in her arms, hugging her unresisting form close to her. Her voice was hoarse with concern when she spoke. "Leliana, what is the matter?"

"I ... I don't think I can do this anymore," she whispered. And something within her broke, the carefully constructed walls and barred doors suddenly flimsy as paper, tearing apart before the surge of emotion. She cried violently, clinging to Cassandra, face hidden against her shoulder. The Seeker held her upright, gloved hand tangling in her hair as she stroked it. Eventually, the sobs wracking Leliana's body abated. Cassandra eased her hold on her but didn't let go completely, instead guiding her to a nearby bench.

They sat quietly together for a time, Cassandra with her arm around Leliana's shoulders, Leliana looking at her hands folded in her lap. Evening light filtered through a painted window behind them, throwing a mosaic of colour on the opposite wall.

Eventually, Cassandra said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She drew a shuddering breath. "No. I ... you already know all I wish to tell."

"Alright. But ... I have seen this before. And I want you to know that I do not think you are weak."

Leliana pursed her lips. "I just spent three hours fetal on the floor because of a memory of something that happened a decade ago. If that is not the definition of weakness-"

"Leliana," Cassandra interrupted her sharply. "You are not weak. You are one of the strongest, most capable women I know. And you are my friend."

Again, she twitched, head snapping up to look at the other woman. Cassandra was using her commanding voice, but although her regal features tended to give her a permanently stern look, there was a softness about her eyes now that touched Leliana almost as deeply as her words. "I ... thank you," she said weakly.

"If you want to step down, I would not hold it against you," Cassandra continued, voice gentler now. "But I think you're wrong. I think you _can_ do this. And I don't think there's anyone else who could do it as well as you."

Leliana smiled. She drew another deep breath, let it out with a sigh, and straightened her back. A moment of weakness. Old scars opening to bleed and then closing again. It wasn't so bad, really. She was still the Nightingale. Still the Left Hand of the Divine. She still had her edge, even if right now her world was blurred by tears, all soft evening colours and someone's arm around her shoulder. After a little time, she said, "You needed some air?"

"Yes. Will you join me?"

"I would like that. Cassandra?"

"Yes?"

"You're my friend, too."


End file.
